


the cry I bring down from the hills

by hoegeta



Series: reasons why I'm going to hell [7]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bondage, Choking, Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kidnapping, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Turk Cloud Strife, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, cloud is fucked up LMAO, how do i defend myself, idk what to even say about this, shoot me i deserve it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoegeta/pseuds/hoegeta
Summary: She loves him, holds him in her heart. And she hates herself for it.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Series: reasons why I'm going to hell [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842454
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90





	the cry I bring down from the hills

**Author's Note:**

> not me editing this at work 💀
> 
> sector 69 wanted more spanking. so. also i really wanted to write about evil turk cloud. sue me.
> 
> warning: im a dark fic writer at heart. this is dark and toxic and upsetting aksjskjd
> 
> title is taken from my favorite poem ever you and I are disappearing by yusef komunyakaa

The room is quiet, white walls tall and full of secrets, watching, only watching. The stench of mako has not left her nostrils for weeks, weighing down all her senses as if she’s been drugged, as if she’s been poisoned. Tifa’s world is colored white and green, a bright, brilliant green that taunts her, runs all down her veins, pin pricks in her wrists and shackles on her ankles.

She never thought it would be him.

“I told you: I don’t know where she is.”

Another slap. This one harder, harsher. It’s all the same to her, all floods her core in pleasure, makes her toes curl, her voice come out in a pathetic mewl.

She hates herself for it.

“You’re being bad,” he tells her, his hand soothing the pain. It’s not like it matters. He’ll hit her again, and again, and she’ll like it, will moan for him, beg for him, slung over his lap like a rag doll. Another slap, and the sting is sharp, makes her cry out. She gnaws at her lip, and his fingers, the rough, black velvet of his glove, stroke at her skin, over the curved slope of her ass, down her thigh. “I need to punish you more.”

Another slap. And another. Tifa begins to pant, her fingers curling into the fabric of his slacks. The pleasure coils within her, licks at her nerves like a restless fire, and he’s _so close_ ; his hand is so close to where she needs it. But he won’t touch her. Not yet.

She wants him to. She wants to drown in his touch. And she hates herself for it.

“Aerith is your friend,” he tells her. “You must know where she is.”

“I don’t,” she says, grinds out the words. The next slap against her ass is like a reward, and she whimpers, his name caught in her mouth, sweet on her tongue. Like a drug. Like poison. “Cloud, _please_.”

The boy from Nibelheim. The boy she’s kept in her heart all this time. The boy who had promised her he would become a Soldier and save her if she was ever in trouble. Cloud, Cloud.

She never thought it would end up this way.

“Please what?”

His fingers flirt in between her thighs, gently prodding them apart. Tifa’s legs fall open, pliant, willing.

“I want it.”

Another slap. She moans, loud, echoing over the white walls, the glass tubes of specimens, the mako. The vases full of mako, sparkling green in the blur of her vision.

He was supposed to become a Soldier. Not a Turk.

“What do you want?”

_So close_. He’s so close, his fingers just barely grazing her lower lips. She bucks her hips, and his palm comes down on her ass again, this one the most painful of all.

She loves it. And she hates herself for it.

“Such a bad girl.”

He lifts her up roughly, like the broken mess of a girl she is, her clothes in tatters all around her body, her breasts and legs bare for his eyes. He kisses her, and she lets him, lets his tongue come in to roam with hers. He tastes cold, bitter, like ashes crawling down her throat, and he steals all of her breath, his gloved hands palming at any skin he can reach. Her hips. Her thighs. Her breasts, twirling her nipples with the tips of his fingers. She pulls back, catches her breath, moans as the pleasure flickers down her veins, the heat in her core unbearable. It’s unbearable, how much she wants him.

He holds her by her neck, his fingertips just barely pressing into her trachea. She likes it. She likes it, goes heady with it, dizzy with it.

“Are you going to tell me where the Ancient is?”

“I don’t know where she is.”

Cloud’s hand flirts further down her body, settling between her legs, swiping at the wetness gathered there. She shivers, her vision spinning as his grip on her throat gets just a bit tighter. He’s _so close_ , his index poking at her lower lips, spreading them, and she rolls her hips into his palm, desperate for something, anything.

His hold on her neck gets tighter.

“Bad girl.”

He lets go, and the blood rushes back into Tifa’s head, her vision swirling at the edges. His fingers slip inside her, and his teeth sink into her shoulder, and it’s overwhelming, the relief, the pain, the bliss that skitters down her spine. She gasps his name, clinging to his arm as he thrusts his fingers into her, brushes the rough patch of skin inside her, curling his nails against it. His palm rubs against her clit, and she grinds her hips into him, her body trembling, coming apart like a toy doll that’s been wound up too tight.

“Cloud,” she pants, her voice breaking on the syllable. “Cloud, _Cloud_.”

She’s _so close_. His fingers. His palm rubbing her clit. His teeth in her shoulder, biting and suckling away the pain. Tifa’s body climbs towards the highest height, and just when she’s about to fall, fall—

He moves completely away.

“You’re not allowed to come yet.”

She wants to cry. She wants to whine, to scream at him, but she knows better than to do that. She’ll reach her peak only when he wills it. And it’s torture, his fingers coming back inside her, the pad of his thumb rubbing against her clit. The pleasure sings through her veins, holds her tightly in its grasp, and she wants to let go, to let it consume her.

But he won’t allow it. He takes his hand away again, his glove drenched in her arousal. Tears mist over her eyes.

“Cloud,” she whines, and it’s pathetic, really, how much she wants to fall apart by his hand. “Please. I want to come.”

“No,” he orders, his voice like ice down her spine. “You’re being bad.”

He slaps her ass again, and the moan she lets out is shameless even to her own ears.

He grabs her by the waist, his grip harsh enough to bruise. And in her shackles, she bends over the lab table for him, her body ready for him to take. To use. He’ll use her, and she’ll allow it, because it’s him. It’s Cloud, and a stubborn, immature part of her heart still clings to him, won’t let him go no matter what he’s become. A Turk. A Shinra dog. A monster.

He’s a monster, his eyes cold, as if bled of their life. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

He stole her from her home, keeps her chained up in this lab. And even so, _even so_ , Tifa gives herself to him willingly. Because it’s Cloud. The last remnant of Nibelheim she has left.

And she hates herself for it.

She hears the telltale clink of his belt buckle, the dragging of his zipper. Tifa’s legs come apart for him, and his hands mold against her hips as he sinks his cock into her, quick and filling her to the hilt. She jerks, his name escaping her throat in a sharp yelp. She likes it, the stretch of him inside her, the way he fits within her, so snug. He slides out, and he slides right back in, his hips slamming into her ass. She’s so aroused she can feel her wetness seep out of her with every stroke in and out.

“Tifa,” he gasps, and for a split moment, she thinks he’s the Cloud from Nibelheim, the one who promised under the stars to protect her. He drapes himself over her back, the silk of his blazer and yarn of his turtleneck sticking to her skin in a thin film of sweat. His breath caresses the back of her ear, her flesh rippling over in goosebumps as he drenches her in soft, lingering kisses. “Tifa, you feel so good.”

She mewls in response, jerking her hips back to meet his thrusts. His pace becomes messy, erratic, slamming into her without a care in the world, and Tifa takes it, likes the pain as much as she likes the pleasure. She likes the way the head of his cock rakes against the sweetest of spots inside her, likes the way his hands grab at her, likes the way her name sounds framed in the fluid husk of his voice.

“Tifa, I’m gonna—”

She can feel him trembling above her, his last thrust reaching the furthest depths of her before he comes, long and hard, chanting her name like a prayer. There’s a burst of warmth within her, his cum painting her walls, and she likes it, likes how it streams down her thighs when he’s done and pulls out. He moves away, and she misses him, misses the weight of his body on top of her. The steel of the table is cold against her breasts and palms. Her skin is still stinging from when he’d slapped her.

“Did I overdo it?” he asks, his voice soft. When he pulls her up, his grip is much gentler than it had been before. He turns her around, beckons her to sit on the table and face him, and she can’t handle his eyes, the way they glimmer at her like the Nibelheim stars she misses so much. The hard lines of his features, carved by age and time, how beautiful he is, so beautiful it aches. It’s the Cloud she loves, holds dear in her heart. It’s him. It’s always been him.

“I’m sorry.”

This kiss tastes like safety. She melts into it, gasps when she feels his hand dip between her thighs. They’re sticky with her arousal and his spend, and he goes up, his index finger rubbing small circles into her clit. Her head falls back, her limbs going rigid, numb as the pleasure seizes all her nerves. Just a few touches at her clit and Tifa is coming all over his hand, her body shuddering, her legs closing around his hand. She nearly falls over as her body finally, _finally_ unravels, all at once, crashes over her in long waves. He holds her close to him, rubbing at her and slinging her through her high, and she can do nothing but cry out his name, pull at the chains around her wrists.

“Cloud, _Cloud_ , I can’t—”

“Come again for me,” he orders, his pace unrelenting. He rubs at her clit, hard and quick, and she likes it, relishes in the painful pleasure. Her second orgasm comes without warning, seizing each and every one of her nerves. Tifa yells out his name, her legs shivering, her body coming apart once more against her will. White stars splash in her vision, and for a moment, she can’t remember where she is, can’t remember anything except his name, stuck in her mouth in a fervent whisper.

“Cloud...”

“Good girl,” he says. She looks at him, and then looks down, and he’s hard again, his cock leaking, eager for her. Her body is spent and tired and aching, but something flips in her abdomen, a fire bubbling once more in her core, as if she hasn’t just had two releases.

The rough swipe of his hands, the way he slams his mouth against hers, it’s all clear to her. He’s not done with her. He’s far from being done.

“Mine,” he rasps against her lips. “ _Mine_.”

She’s his in heart, body, and soul. Because it’s Cloud. Her Cloud. The one she has clung to all these years. The one she loves. And she’ll give herself to him, let him use and abuse her, because she loves him.

And she fucking hates herself for it.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Author's Note:**

> i like this concept so much i may even write a full-length story about it. who knows 👀
> 
> thanks for reading <3


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